Y’know, maybe having that Dire Wolf Jerky wasn’t such a good idea after all. It sure was one strip less that could’ve gone to my family, all things considered, and I have the feeling that my mother was one of the best cooks in the area. She should’ve put it to better use than what I did with it. Well, as they say in your generation, live and learn… right?

~Gato, when talking about the strips of Dire Wolf Jerky

#

Gato sighed in relief when he made it back to the road leading to his family’s farm. Well, that’s a relief, he thought. Now I need to go home and deal with things that way. Which way to my parents house from here, again?

It took him a bit of thinking, but then he realized something. Wait, I remember now. I have a mini-map that’s supposed to help me out with this issue! I just need to focus on using the map and finding my way back home. Now, then… which way is home from here?

After messing around with the mini-map that was attached to his mind, he began to look around for where his family’s farm was on the map. He looked to his left, which was north. There wasn’t a sign of anything that said he was to head in that particular direction.

Well, if north isn’t the right direction, then that makes south the correct one, he thought. He turned to his right and saw that the mini-map was leading him to his home from there. Jackpot!

[For taking the time to investigate your surroundings before hitting the road, your Wisdom has gone up by 1.]

Ugh… Gato thought, a vein pulsing on his head. Why do I get the feeling that I’m gonna hate this?

With a sigh, he walked on over to his parents house from there, making sure that he wouldn’t be accosted on the way home. In fact, he needed to be sure that nobody would try anything on him, all things considered. This was mainly to test out his Luck stat when compared to before.

Eventually, he made it back home, and just in time to see someone leave the property that wasn’t there when he left home earlier that afternoon. What’s the town treasurer doing here on the family farm?

He shrugged, before he remembered something. “Inventory,” he said, immediately pulling the bag of scales out from the storage space.

Gato, Son of Alexander’s Inventory Screen

Head: N/A

Neck: Black and Blue Plaid Tartan

Right Shoulder: N/A | Torso: Rainbow Plaid Tunic | Left Shoulder: N/A

Right Arm: N/A | Left Arm: N/A

Right Hand: Steel Longsword | Left Hand: N/A

Leggings: Rainbow Plaid Pants

Footwear: Peasant Shoes

Letter From Duke Antonio Elric

19 A Level Strips of Dire Wolf Jerky

20 B Level Strips of Dire Wolf Jerky

20 S Level Strips of Dire Wolf Jerky

20 C Level Strips of Dire Wolf Jerky

20 D Level Strips of Dire Wolf Jerky

<

Page 1

>

“Okay, time to move this over to the house,” Gato said out loud, carrying the bag over his shoulder once again. When he stepped foot on the family farm, however, Abby came walking out of the silo. “Huh? Abby, what’s the matter?” he called out to her.

“Eh? Gato, you’re finally back,” Abby called out, before hurrying over to him. “Are you okay? Did the dragon give you any trouble about its scales?”

“Actually, no,” Gato said, shaking his head. Just when he was about to continue that line of thought, however…

“Gato! What were you thinking, young man?!” his mother demanded, yelling from the front door of the house. “You’ve done something completely foolish, I hope you realize!”

Eh? What’s this about? Gato thought, his face contorting in a state of confusion.

“Don’t give me that look, Gato!” his mother yelled. “You signed up for the combat tournament in thirteen days time!”

Gato facepalmed with his left hand, his right holding onto the bag of scales. So that’s what this is all about, he thought. I need to do some form of damage control… but how can I do it?

“Come inside, Gato,” his mother ordered. “The whole family needs to talk with you now.”

Gato groaned. “Yes, mother,” he said. He then looked at Abby and said, “Come on, I’ll explain about the scales when I can.”

“Okay, Gato,” she said with a nod. With that, the two of them headed into the house, before they noticed that the rest of the family was sitting at the kitchen table, waiting for him to enter the room.

“Gato, I hope you have a good reason for entering the tournament,” Jeremiah spoke first.

“Well—” Gato began.

“Yeah, entering the tournament would mean you’re losing out on your life as a whole,” Cima interrupted him.

“What—” Gato tried to ask.

“Besides which, Gato, you need to know how to read and write in order to accept the grand prize,” Chuck added, pointing his right index finger into the air.

“Uh—” Gato began again.

“Gato, for the love of the Divine Spirits, please consider the grief you’re giving us over this,” Cynthia said, tears streaming down her face. “We don’t want you to perish in the event that you get sent to the front lines!”

“Where—” Gato tried to ask.

“Gato, you’re ignoring the good things of this place,” Jack said, his tone as hard as stone. “What are you trying to pull with ignoring the good things of the farm?”

“Er—” Gato tried speaking.

“Well, I think we all want to know something important,” Simon said, his face flatter than what Gato had ever seen before in his entire life.

“Yep,” Andrew agreed. “It’s so important, it needs to be asked outright and swiftly. The thing we wanna know is—”

“Hey, Gato, where’d you get the bag from?” Delaz asked.

That got everyone at the table turning to face him.

“W-what?” Delaz asked defensively. “Am I the only one who thought it was strange he came home with a rather full bag?”

Gato sighed. That completely ruined the mood the others were going for, he thought.

“Actually,” the father of the family said, looking at Gato a moment later, “I think we should ask where he got the bag from, first, then find out what he’s planning to pull with joining the tournament with minimal training.”

“Okay, I get it,” Gato said. “I’ll tell you what happened about getting this bag. I walked through the woods as safely and swiftly as possible, making it out the other side, when I suddenly came face to face with a Platinum Dragon who was looking for his treasure.”

Count Conrad, who Gato didn’t see at first, suddenly cleared his throat and walked out from the shadows of the left corner next to the doorway. “Did you fight the dragon?” he asked.

“Actually, no,” Gato said, shaking his head. “He and I teamed up to get his treasure back.”

“Who was dumb enough to steal a dragon’s treasure?” Delaz asked.

“A group of bandits, apparently,” Gato said. “I think they called themselves the Drake Claws, though I can’t be sure, since it seems a demon killed them off before we got there.”

“You encountered a demon?!” the rest of the household exclaimed in shock.

“Er, yeah, I did,” Gato answered. “I mean, it was a tough fight, but we won and sent that demon back to Hell where it belonged.”

“I find it hard to believe,” his father said, shaking his head. “If you and the dragon won against the demon, what did you do to get the bag from under the dragon’s nose?”

“Nothing,” Gato said, before he brought the bag into the middle of the room. “M’thr’ln and I were able to get his treasure back to his cave, and he gave me a bunch of freely shed scales with a lot of protective power added.” With that, he opened the bag, revealing the platinum dragon scales that he acquired.

Count Conrad rushed over to the bag, before picking up a few of the scales. “What do you know?” he asked. “It’s really a bunch of dragon scales.” He turned to face Gato. “These scales are impressive, and full of protective power… you’re right about that.”

“Wait, Gato actually fought the demon fair and square, to the point where the dragon gave him scales willingly?” Jeremiah asked, getting out of his seat. “That’s so incredibly lucky of you, Gato!”

“You can say that again,” Gato said, grinning at the praise. “Now, let’s get this over with, shall we? I doubt that you’ll want to skip over the important parts of this, so ask away, everyone.”

“That’s a good point,” Delaz said, looking at the baby of the family with a smile on his face. “Of course, I think we all need to know this, Gato.” His smile then fell off of his face. “How did you manage to not get eaten by the dragon in question?”

Everyone else looked at Delaz, then at Gato, back to Delaz, and finally back at Gato for the last time.

Gato groaned. Of course he’d ask me about that, he thought. How am I supposed to answer that question? I mean, I highly doubt that I could simply hide the fact that I have a strange interface that connects me to this “System Administrator” from who knows where… can I?

[You can try, but it’s better that you tell them the truth right away. Honesty is the best policy and all that.]

Gato felt a vein bulge in his forehead once again. Very well… but I don’t know how likely I’ll be able to keep my family from considering me crazy for this one.

“Gato?” Delaz asked. “Is something wrong?”

“You could say that,” Gato said, sighing as he did so. “Well, keep in mind that what I have to say about this is going to be crazy, and I don’t know how to prove my claims… but I’ll sure try proving what I’m saying about this.”

“Huh?!” Cima gasped out. “What are you talking about, Gato?! You’re not possessed by the demon, are you?”

“What are you—no, I’m not affected by possession!” Gato growled out. “You can perform the salt test to prove my claim just now, though.”

“I might just have to,” Cima said, getting the salt.

#

“Let’s see here,” Isabella said, walking about in town at that point. Her outfit had been replaced with something less revealing and more formal, though still in the same color scheme that she wore last time. “I have to wonder how likely the people who are working at the tournament are going to reveal who all is participating in the combat section of it… I mean, it sure would be nice to know, to be fair.”

With a sigh, she thought, I need to make sure that the people organizing the tournament won’t report back to my father about my desire to enter it. I mean, I wish to be able to join the combat activities, but how am I supposed to take part at this rate? Is it even possible?

She continued walking, finding herself in front of the temple of the Divine Spirits. “Well, this is awkward,” she said. “How can I prove that I’m not going to be a trophy wife otherwise?”

“Is something bothering you, milady?” a late evening tournament organizer asked.

“Eh?” Isabella let out, before she turned to face the speaker. It was a middle-aged woman, one who looked to be a hunchback with the way she was leaning forward and still standing upright. Her nose was long, giving Isabella the impression that the woman was some sort of witch. “Oh, I’m fine,” she said. “I just wonder what all needs to happen at the tournament, given it’ll be hosted here at the outskirts of Alfheimwood.”

“I know the feeling,” the organizer said. “What I wouldn’t give to have a bit more free time to organize all this parchmentwork, so that I can watch the tournament without having to miss the important part of it. My daughter is going to be in the tournament, mainly to deal with how her lout of a husband doesn’t know what’s good for her or himself.”

“What do you mean?” Isabella asked.

“It’s like this, milady,” the organizer said, putting her stacks of parchment down at the desk. “My son-in-law is notorious for being a playboy, meaning he would play around with all the ladies of town if he could get away with it. I’m not sure why she married him to begin with, but it needs to be annulled.”

“So, wait, which portion of the tournament did your daughter join up in?” Isabella asked.

“The combat portion,” the organizer said plainly. “I mean, sure, you can make a case that the tournament is for men only, but the officials who thought it a good idea to bring the tournament over here were idiots, no two ways about it.”

I can imagine, Isabella thought. Something about this reeks.

“Well, if you feel that there’s something you need to do in this tournament, go ahead,” the organizer said. “Just make sure to run it by your father first, milady.”

Isabella scoffed when she heard that. “As if he’ll permit this idea,” she said.

“Oh, you never know,” the organizer said. “I mean, you could be one of the first people to prove your father wrong about your safety here.”

“I understand,” Isabella said, before she thought of something. “Actually, could you please check something for me? I have a bad feeling that the men are going to be without bride candidates when the tournament is over with.”

The old lady blinked, before she chuckled. “Certainly, milady,” she said, giving off a toothy grin. “I’ll be looking over registration information about women joining the tournament compared to men. This might convince your father to quit treating you like a doll.”

I have the distinct feeling I don’t want to know what that even means, Isabella thought, a bead of sweat rolling down the back of her head. I mean, really, how am I supposed to handle that set of information?

As if oblivious to Isabella’s thoughts, the old lady started organizing the parchments that were on her desk, doing what the young lady ordered. “Let’s see,” she said, looking through the parchments in order. “So far, it seems that all the names in this pile of parchments are male, but I don’t doubt that more women have signed up than men all this time through.”

“I understand,” Isabella said, nodding. “How many parchments do you have to deal with now?”

The old lady paused in her checking, before she began counting the number of parchments in the stack. “Ten, twenty, thirty, forty, fifty, sixty, seventy, eighty, ninety, a hundred, a hundred ten… a hundred nineteen?”

“That’s a lot of parchments,” Isabella commented, drooping her head.

“Oh, I still have to check the parchments everyone else has,” the old lady admitted. “I’m only counting my parchments, and the ones I haven’t checked yet, at least until I get to counting everyone else’s parchments.”

Isabella perked her head back up. “I think I understand the situation,” she said. “So, how many parchments did you check already?”

“Eleven parchments,” the old lady answered, before continuing to check. “Now, if you could be a dear and get everyone else to do the same thing I’m doing now, that would be much appreciated.”

Isabella nodded, before she looked around for the other tournament organizers. Okay, I see them, she thought, before heading over to the nearest one. “Excuse me,” she said, getting his attention. “I’m hoping you can help me out with something.”

“What can I help you out with, milady?” he asked.

“Could you please help me inform the rest of the tournament organizers that I need to check how many women signed up compared to men?” she asked. “I’m trying to figure out how many men will lose their brides at this rate.”

The man who she was speaking with blinked in surprise. “Well, that’s new,” he said. “I’ll help you get that information right now. Hold on a second.” He then turned to face the rest of the organizers in the area. “Hey, guys! We need to check on how many of our participants are men versus women!”

“Are you kidding, Mac?!” one of the other organizers that Isabella didn’t get to yelled out. “Who gave that order in the first place?!”

Isabella raised her hand.

“Roger that, milady!” the other organizers called out, before they began to check all their parchments.

At that point, the old lady who Isabella talked with walked up to the young lady and said, “I think we have a problem.”

Isabella turned to face the old lady and asked, “What’s the problem?”

“I just finished checking the number of parchments,” the old lady said. “Of the one hundred thirty parchments I have access to, only twelve were filled in by men. Everyone else that signed up was a woman of some variety.”

Isabella gaped when she heard that. That’s got to be the most ridiculous thing I’ve heard in my entire life! she thought.

Mac, the second tournament organizer that Isabella spoke with, had just finished checking the pile he had assigned to him. “I hate to admit it, but the bride population is going to decrease at this time,” he said. “How did we miss this event?”

“How many full parchments do you have access to, sonny?” the old lady asked.

“One hundred and fifty,” Mac said, “and only two of them were men saying they’d participate.”

Isabella gasped when she heard that. “You’re kidding, right?” she asked.

“I wish, milady,” Mac answered. “Truth is, this is getting to be one of those times where we need to do some form of damage control…” He then shuddered. “I don’t feel up to telling the officials what’s going to happen about this.”

Isabella facepalmed. “I hear that,” she said. “I guess I’d better be the one to tell the officials.”

“Only if the others report similar situations to what we did, milady,” the old lady said. “For all we know—”

“Ma’am, we have a problem,” one of the other organizers called out.

Isabella turned to face the other organizer. “What’s the problem?” she asked.

“The total count of men in the tournament is closer to nine among the rest of the parchments!” he exclaimed.

“Say what?!” Isabella yelled in shock.

“I wish I were kidding, milady,” the other organizer called out. “What is wrong with this picture?”

“How many other participants are there among the registered people for the tournament?” Mac asked the other man.

“We counted it to be about two thousand and fifty total,” the other man called out his answer. “How did we not notice this happening?!”

“I have no idea,” Mac said, shaking his head and breathing out through his nostrils. “We need to figure this one out in such a way that the Baron won’t get us sacked from our jobs…” He then looked at Isabella. “No offense meant to you, milady.”

“None taken,” Isabella said, shaking her head. “I get it, my father’s not the best of men out there. Whatever had happened to him is none of my understanding… at least, that’s what I know about this.”

“What do you mean, milady?” Mac asked her.

Isabella turned to face Mac and sighed. “For better or for worse,” she said, “I have no idea how to understand what he went through ever since my mother died. It’s something akin to a man thing, or so I understand what he’s doing.”

Mac nodded. “I think you’ll need to talk with him as soon as you possibly can,” he said. “It’s not healthy for him to bottle up his emotions, or so I gather.”

Isabella arched an eyebrow into her hairline. “That sounds incredibly generous of someone who seems to hate my father,” she said.

Mac’s face flushed a rather deep crimson. “Oh, did I seriously imply that I hate your father?” he asked, his right arm going to scratch the back of his neck. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to give off that impression whatsoever.”

Isabella turned away from Mac at that point. “Well, make sure not to do that again,” she said. “I don’t think you want to lose your job here at all.”

“No, I certainly don’t, milady,” Mac said, before he went back to his task.

Well, now that all that’s out of the way, I should go back home now, Isabella thought. Walking back to the mansion, she thought back on what she had uncovered with the people who worked the registration desks. So, someone’s trying to remove the bride candidates from the picture here at Alfheimwood… but why? Is there supposed to be a shortage of women in town or something? What’s going on around here that nobody in town knows about? Am I overthinking this whole mess? I sure hope not… that’d be a disaster if I was.

She needed to get on the case.

#

Gato sighed as he waited for Cima to get the salt from the cabinet where it was located. Why do I get the feeling that this is just going to be embarrassing for her? he thought.

[You’re thinking too much about it, so don’t worry.]

Gato’s left eye twitched when he read the box. Not helping… he thought.

“A-HA!” Cima cried out. “I found the salt!”

“Don’t use too much of it, Cima,” Gato said, getting her attention. “After all, we cook with it as well.”

Cima opened her mouth to say something, raising her right index finger, then paused in thought. “You got a point about that,” she admitted. She lowered her finger and stretched out her hand to shake the salt onto her palm. “Okay, come over here, Gato,” she said.

“On my way,” Gato said, walking over to get this task over with. “What do I need to do to resolve this issue?”

“Simple,” Cima said, extending her hand to Gato. “See if you can touch the salt without being hurt.”

Okay, that’s a nice way of doing that, Gato thought. He then poked the salt with his right index finger. No pain, no gain, at least as far as old sayings go.

“Nothing happened,” Jeremiah said. “Are we sure that this is a case of possession?”

Cima sighed. “Okay, the salt test worked as intended for a regular human,” she said. “Now, how about we talk about what you went through earlier?”

Gato nodded. “That sounds like as good a plan as any that can exist,” he said.

“Good, Gato,” the father said. “Now, could you please sit down at your place?”

Gato turned to look at his father for a bit, before he headed back to his seat at the table.

“Thank you,” the father said, just as Gato sat down at his seat. “Now, how about we start from the beginning?”

“Sure,” Gato said. “That’s as good an idea as anything, father.”

“Very well,” the father said, nodding. “Where do we start this story?”

“Well, this story starts yesterday, in fact,” Gato said. “Now, you all know how I woke up later than everyone else for breakfast, and how I signed up for the tournament that’s giving you all a lot of grief, so I’ll just skip to the part where I returned home.”

“What happened while you were heading back here?” Delaz asked.

“Simply put, I met a dwarf of Clan Ironbone who was working on helping set up the tournament outside of Alfheimwood,” Gato said, looking at Delaz for a few seconds. Turning his attention back to their father, he continued, “As soon as I explained my purpose for the tournament, I walked on my way home, but then I heard the dwarf talk a bit more. He warned me of bandits that were in the area, prompting me to look back at him, only he was nowhere to be seen. It was like I was going crazy…”

[The wording you want is “it was like I was hallucinating.”]

Thanks a lot… Gato thought.

“Gato?” Cynthia asked. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, Cynthia,” Gato replied, glancing at her. “Anyway, as I was trying to say, it was like I was hallucinating. Soon enough, I got right over myself, so to speak.”

“What happened next?” Jack asked. “Did anything crazy take place? I mean, something had to have happened to make you a target of that demon you fought earlier.”

Gato shook his head. “I don’t even know why I was targeted by the demon, Jack,” he answered. “For all I know, the demon was acting on orders by some higher up.”

“Gato, please, be serious when it comes to this,” the mother of the family said. “What happened after the dwarf seemingly existed and vanished while you weren’t looking?”

Gato turned to face his mother and said, “Quite simply, I walked on home.”

“That’s all?” everyone else asked him.

“Regarding the dwarf, yes,” Gato said, shrugging right after. “However, things start getting crazy when I walked over to the front gate and got shocked on it.”

“I remember that, Gato,” Andrew said, raising his hand.

“Wait, you mean Gato got shocked on a wooden gate?” Simon asked.

“No, I remember him telling me he got shocked on the front gate,” Andrew told his twin. “I don’t know how it could possibly have happened, but there it is. Seems like he’s sticking with that version of events to the end.”

“Gato, please,” Chuck said, cutting off the younger twins. “How are you supposed to have been shocked on wood of all things?!”

Gato drooped his head at that. “I’m still not sure how I managed that,” he said. “I really have no clue how to explain the truth of it.”

“It may be that something else happened, but you don’t remember that even being the case,” the father said. “I mean, think about it. Which gate did you really come in from yesterday, Gato?”

“The front gate, father,” Andrew said. “I was there when he returned from town.”

The father looked between Andrew and Gato for a brief moment. “Okay, that makes sense,” he simply said. “Is there any proof that this shock incident happened?”

Before Gato could say anything to help him, Andrew spoke first. “He started looking above my head for a brief period of time, as if he was looking for something there.”

The father blinked a few times, before he looked Gato in the eye. “What sort of tomfoolery are you trying to pull, Gato?” he asked, his tone of voice colder than the arctic circles.

Dagnabbit, Andrew! Gato thought. Now you’re making me look like a liar to everyone else! Well… either that, or you’re making me look crazy, one of the two. If only I could drink a large barrel of ale to drown the stupidity out of my system… can that even work?

[Player’s Form prevents that from working, I’m afraid.]

I had to ask, didn’t I?